Christina's Magic

Today is August 20, 2023. I was pondering the date this morning with my cup of coffee, remembering that 22 years ago today my father passed away. I think of my dad daily. I hear his voice saying his funny little sayings. He is forever with me. On the other end of that spectrum, 32 years ago today I had a beautiful love song written about me called "Christina's Magic." That song had such an impact on me that I named my art business "Christina's Magic."

My niece's husband, Mario, jokingly asked me once if I had a playlist of all the songs that have been written about me. I laughed and replied, "Unfortunately, no." Most of the songs were written before iTunes or Spotify were invented. The bands had split up, some of the song writers have died or they are married and they can't possibly record those love songs written about a woman in their past. You know the story. The box of cassette tapes, lyrics and love letters in a back of my closet that will remain there until the day I die.

I have the original handwritten copy of "Christina's Magic" tucked away in a photo album with a few photos to remind me of a magical time in my life. It was the summer of 1991. I lived in far south Austin, off of Slaughter Lane. August 20 was a Saturday andas usual, I had been on the drag selling my art at the 23rd Street Artist Market all day. 

23rd Street Artist Market

This is a photo of the 23rd Street Artist Market.
I served on the board at the market. I got my job
at the Austin American Statesman in Dec of 1991,
 when I went in to place an ad
for the 23rd Street Artist Market.

After all of us artists packed up our artwork for the day, one of my fellow artist friends and I walked across the street to the Cactus Cafe to see Jimmy LaFave. During the intermission, I walked outside to sit by the water fountain. A handsome stranger with a leather vest and cowboy hat walked over and sat close by. He had a Chronicle in his hand and said "Hi, I am Daniel, I'm new to Austin and wondering if you could show me some other places in this rag to go hear good music." I moved closer to him and introduced myself. We looked through the Chronicle, I circled a few interesting attractions and we went back inside. I sat next to my friend and I saw Daniel hanging out at the bar. He then walked over, sat next to and asked me if I wanted a drink. He came back with my drink and whispered in my ear "This is going to make a great love song." I said "What is?" He replied "How I am going to steal you away from your boyfriend." I giggled and said "It's not going to be a very long song." After the show he and I went out for coffee at Kerby Lane. I then took him to his hotel and we laid on his bed talking and laughing. It was one of the most romantic nights I had ever had. I went home at sun rise and later that afternoon he called me and told me I had left my earrings on his night stand and wondered if I would be interested in going out that night. He told me later that he was pretty sure I had purposely left them there so he would have to call me. Ha! When I arrived at his room he told me he had written a song about me and then sang it. I was completely floored.

Christina’s Magic

She sent Billy Doss from somewhere near Waco

He gave me a message from the lady Christine

Just like a snake I slipped from my past

Rode down on the back of a gold eagle’s wing

We landed in Austin then out of the shadows

Like a dervish she swirled and danced in my dreams

Christina slips off her synthetic see-through

And takes me to places I’ve never been

We ride on the slipstream, me and Christina

I told her I’ve loved her for lifetimes it seems.

She weaves her magic on a desert mandala

Her cluster of blessings are hidden by pain

Dark angel’s hair rolls down streaked like sunset

Lips sliced like peaches drive me insane

Standing on crystal here at the crossroads 

Waiting for lightening to strike twice again

Christina’s magic is old and it’s ancient  

My mother of mercy brings new life to me

We ride on the slipstream, me and Christina

I told her I loved her for lifetimes it seems

Thunder clouds gather 

Christina’s passion drives tears from heaven 

Down to the sea

The scarlet red dawning dances on trinkets

Treasures Christina has left for me

Christina’s magic is old, very ancient  

My mother of mercy brings new life to me

We ride on the slipstream, me and Christina

I told her I loved her for lifetimes it seems

Written by Daniel Rudick

August 20, 1991, 8:00 am

The crazy thing is that he wrote this song hours after we had met yet it was a prophecy of what was to happen. First of all he mentioned the earrings I left behind "The scarlet red dawning dances on trinkets, treasures Christina has left for me."

He didn't know that I made hand made dream catchers to sell at the artist market yet he wrote "She weaves her magic on a desert mandala." I wondered how this man from Vancouver Island knew me, how we could feel each other's souls just by touching hands. It was magical.

Daniel and Christina, South Congress Ave., 1991

Christina, South Congress Ave., 1991

Daniel at Las Manitas Avenue Cafe 

Christina and Daniel, 1991

Maybe a month after we had met, he was staying at my house and we walked to the corner store one evening to get a "Clearly Canadian" to drink. On the walk home, it started to rain and thunder. He said he had never seen rain drops that big. We were standing on the street corner waiting for the light to change and lightning struck twice and the thunder was so loud it shook us. In his song, he wrote "Standing on crystal here at the crossroads, waiting for lightening to strike twice again" Again, the synchronicities were truly magical. How had he seen into our future?

Daniel writing a song on the stairway at my house.
We are both left handed and Taurus

Daniel at the Broken Spoke on South Lamar

I can't even remember how long Daniel's stay in Austin was. It seemed like a lifetime. As he had even written in the song "I've told her I've loved her for lifetimes, it seems." Maybe a week or so after his arrival he asked me if I could take him to the train station to pick up his friend, Billy Doss, who he had met on the train on the way from Canada to Texas. Billy had gotten off of the train in Waco to see his mother. We picked him up and took him to his cool little house on the east side of IH35 at Woodward. He lived in the coolest little house. Looking back, it seems that the three of us spent a century in Billy's front yard drinking coffee and writing songs. 

Billy Doss and Daniel Rudick 1991

Daniel had to go back to Canada with plans to return. He called me one week to the minute after he left and reminded me that he had been gone a week. He did that for a while, always starting the conversation with how long he had been gone and how much he missed me. Life got in the way and he never returned yet Billy and I remained life long friends. Years later Daniel called and told me he that his new band, "Jack N Lefty" had recorded "Christina's Magic" He sent me a copy of it. Needless to say, I was distraught to realize his band was a duo and more importantly, that he had changed the lyrics to my love song. I asked him why he had changed it and he simply said "poetic license." We never spoke again.

Click here to listen to the updated version he recorded.

The magic died in this version of the song. I was perplexed to realize that when he returned to Canada he had once again, just like a snake, slipped from his past. 

The Life of Spanish Varilleros

Yesterday I posted a photo on Facebook of my kitchen wall that pays homage to my son.... or his art anyway. One large painting of a flower and two small ones on the side. My friend Bonny Holder, who lives in New Mexico, made a comment that the flowers were in New Mexico colors and she reminded me that yesterday January 6, New Mexico turned 102 years old. Only 3 years older than my dad?

Then last night someone posted a video of Puerto de Luna, NM, the little community where my mother was born and raised and where she then married my dad. These events prompted me to search the internet for more information about Puerto de Luna. I find myself in my own little history lessons from time to time and before I know it, I have spent hours combing the internet for useless information.

This time I found that in the late 1800's there were Spanish Varilleros who traveled to all the rural communities selling goods. Everyone looked forward to having them come because they also provided news from the neighboring communities and played music "de la Madre Patria" from the mother country of Spain. Then there were the gypsies that roamed these parts of New Mexico in caravans. They would camp between villages in several red wagons fully equipped with tents, bedding and cooking utensils. The men would trade horses and steal chickens while the women were fortune telling and using herbs to heal the sick. I had never read any of these tales before. This was found in a book called "The Lore of New Mexico." As I read these stories, I remembered that I used to have vivid nightmares as a child about being in a caravan of what I know now to be gypsies. There were carnivals and chaos. I had nothing to base any of these fears on since I had never had that experience in this lifetime. And I have always like guitars, guitar music, especially with a Latin flair. I also felt a very close connection to the stories of Billy the Kid. He was known to have lived on a ranch with with my Great Uncle Hilario Valdez. I used to think that maybe I had been there in a past life but now I am finding studies that show that in addition to determining our physical characteristics, our vulnerabilities to certain diseases and our personality, our DNA holds important memories of our ancestors. That explains it. I was living on the Gerhardt Ranch and was kidnapped by the gypsies. LOL

There have been a few times in my life when I felt like I was living the life of a gypsy per se. However there is one winter twenty three years ago that sort of took the cake. I had just returned to Austin from LA, were I was working for an advertising agency. I didn't have a job so I spent my Christmas holiday selling my art at the 23rd Street Austin Renaissance Artist Market. I would have to say that was one of the toughest winters ever. My son spent his two week Christmas holiday helping me set up my tent every morning and hanging out with me for the day selling my art and then helping me tear it all down at night. Did I mention he was sick for most of the two weeks standing out in one of the coldest winters in Austin history? There was an artist in the booth next to mine who complained about me having my sick child there, as if I had a choice. She later had children of her own and changed her tune... I love when that happens.

I was on the board of the artist market and in charge of designing and placing the ads in the newspaper. The week before Christmas I went into the Austin American-Statesman office to place the ad. As I sat there on the second floor at the Statesman, gazing out the window in the warm office, I thought of how nice it would be to work in that office. It was heated. I wouldn't have to work all night creating jewelry only to have to stand out in the cold all day to sell it. I wouldn't have to live like a gypsy!

The week after Christmas, when the Christmas rush was over at the artist market,  I went and applied for a job in the Educational Services Department at the Statesman. Much to my surprise, on January 6, I had the job! Wait.... January 6, 1912 New Mexico joined the union and January 6, 1991, I got a real job working at the newspaper! I never put the two together until last night. What a coincidence.

The Marketing Department of the Austin American-Statesman
Around 1995

 I don't know what I was expecting of that job, I just wanted to be out of the cold.  I don't think I expected to work there for 15 years! But one year lead to the next. Then my kids were teenagers and I needed a safety net and insurance. I stayed in Educational Services for 7 years and then moved into Marketing for 8 years. All in all, my experience at the Statesman was a good one. I made many very good friends and I learned a lot. My biggest lesson by far was that the creative part of being an artist of any kind is a very small part of being successful. One has to know how to market yourself. I am guessing that the traveling Spanish Varilleros were good at it because they successfully left a good impression on their customers. The gypsies, maybe not so much because of their dishonesty.

I haven't been at the Statesman for 6 years. I thank God every day for the internet. Now I get to sell my art from the comfort of my own home and work when I want. YaY! I love my life!

Children Make Me Laugh.... And They Grow Up Too Fast

Last night my son called to share one of those funny stories that parents and grandparents live for. He said "Mom, Andrew just pulled a Christian on me." I thought oh God! What has he done? Instead it was one of those educational moments that only happens once in a lifetime that is simply heart warming.

Andrew to his dad, in his all knowing six year old stance:
"Dad, it is NOT War War Two, it is World War Two."

Christian said he was trying his best not to laugh at Andrew's new realization because he remembered the time when he was about four or five, just learning to read. We were driving home in Oak Hill and he saw the sign that we had passed many, many times that read "Oak Hill."

Christian said to me in his five year old surprised voice: "Mom, it's not "Oh Kill, it's Oak Hill."

It took all I had not to laugh. It only stood to reason that Christian would think it was called "Oh Kill." It was in the mid 80's and he and Adriane spent a year driving around with me in the "Oak Hill" area looking for a place to build our dream home. Convict Hill was my first choice since it was on the edge of town, high on the hill. Bt there were scary rumors of long ago, when prisoners, with their ankles hobbled by heavy chains and iron balls. The prisoners cut stone for the Capitol Building that was being built in Austin. Some men died on the site. There were stories of prisoners being buried in shallow graves on that hill. Hence the name "Convict Hill." I don't know why I would scare my 5 year old with that story but needless to say, we decided to buy land further out off of Circle Drive.

When Dylan was about five years old, he realized that we were all saying "remember" and not "renember" and was upset that nobody had bothered to correct him. It is just one of those things that you hold on to for as long as you can, because learning how to say words correctly is just another step in them growing up and moving on with their life.

Dylan is turning 17 in 9 days and talking about going away to school. They grow up and learn how to talk way too fast!

Time flies when you're having fun.

Remembering Artz Ribhouse

Z and Art

Today, 9/11 is a sad day for our nation, yesterday was a sad day for south Austin. Artz Rib House, my home away from home most every Monday night for many years, was demolished. It had been a long time coming but it still knocked me for a loop when I saw the demolition taking place while driving down South Lamar yesterday. I cried all the way to my destination.

Artz Rib house back in the day

The Studebakers

Artz Rib house, yesterday

Artz Rib house, yesterday

In the 1990's on any given evening, I could walk from my house in Barton Hills to the corner of Lamar and Bluebonnet to hear music at Artz. Monday was my favorite because I knew that I would see from 10 - 50 of my best friends there to hear Sarah Elizabeth and the Banned. Sarah's mother Sudie, otherwise know as "The Queen Mother" was there every Monday dressed like a million dollars. I have always said I want to grow up to be Sudie. She taught us so much. I remember hearing her say, as she counted the money from the tip jar at the end of the night that one should tip AT LEAST one dollar for each member of the band. I thought that isn't much but on second thought, it is more than most are willing to tip.

Sarah Elizabeth Campbell

Add caption

Sudie, Sayra and Vicki

Bill, Marcia, Sudie and Sayra

Chris, Sudie, Karen and Slaid

I was talking about how sad I was to my daughter today and she reminded me that it was a Monday when she went into labor with my grandson Dylan. Needless to say, it was one of the few Monday evenings that I missed Sayra Elizabeth and the Banned play at Artz. Shortly thereafter, Dylan started going with me on Monday. He grew up holding court at the bar, drinking sodas, eating ribs and telling jokes to the big guys. When he got bored he would make his way to the back patio where he played in the dirt with his trucks and tractors. One of the few times I didn't take him, I got home and he came up and hugged me and immediately smelled the BBQ smoke on my clothing and said "You went to Artz without me!"

Rene and Dylan

After about 15 years, SXSW became sort of a joke for local Austinites so Paul Barker put together a great week of FREE showcases called "South By South Lamar" with Albert and Gage usually playing on the closing Saturday bill. I saw some really great music every year, some local and some from far off lands who where just in town for SXSW.

Albert and Gage

Chris, Dave, Sarah

Christine and Christina

The Flyin'A's

Beth and George

Thursday nights during "South By South Lamar" we had Hawaiian shirt contests. 

Marvin and Danny playing Thursday evening
Hawaiian Shirt contest night

Here are some of the best shirts.

Z, Madgie, David, Art and Danny

Danny, Art and Z

Madgie Art and Christina

Madgie and David

Paul Barker, Danny Britt and Winker with me, Christina announcing the winners!

When Artz fell on hard times we had a benefit to raise money. 

Christina, Z and Beth

Rene and Pam

Christine and Pam

Winker

Auction items at benefit

This is one of my favorite posters I have ever designed
and look at the line up of musicians who came out to support Artz!

Art signing posters to be auctioned off

Z and Art

May Birthdays

There was another traditional that began at Artz on Monday nights as well. There were so many of us that were born in May that we started a May birthday celebration, which later led into having a birthday almost weekly for whomever was having a birthday.

Front Row: Sarah, Sherry, Christina Cash
Back row: Debbie, Madgie

Paul, Sherry, Sarah, Cash, Christina

...then there were times Jon Emry and his band played at Artz,

Art being the bass player in the band.

David, Beth, Art and Jon

These times at Artz will be missed but fortunately as I told Sarah Elizabeth yesterday:

 "The good news is that you (Sarah Elizabeth) have a loyal family that follows your sweet soul and beautiful voice around from venue to venue. Thank God for El Mercado South!"

.... and in the words of  my dear friend Sarah Elizabeth:

"Artz Rib House was so generous in having local musicians play weekly. He and Zenobia made it a great place to hang, eat baby backs and kick-ass potato salad and a kind of clubhouse of some real characters. A great place to see your friends. Those years mean a lot to me. It's a big hit, losing that place." ~Sarah Elizabeth Campbell

As the song goes...

Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got til it's gone
They paved paradise and put up a parking lot

... In closing... a gentle reminder.... we'll see you Monday night at El Mercado and Donn's Depot!

Some of these photos by Winker. Thank you Winker!
No names have been changed to protect the innocent :)

1/3/13.... Lucky 13

So here we are, entering into the lucky number 13. Last night I returned from a trip to my beloved Texas, where I spent most of my time feeling under the weather, coughing, with a fever. I only saw about half the friends I had hoped to see. I am sure it was all just exactly the way it was supposed to be. Lots of quality time with Richard, three nights at Chateau René, a couple of meals with Dylan, and a Danny Britt gig at Donn's Depot. I really wish Monday night had not been New Year's so I could have done my usual Monday night thing, going to Mystery Monday, to see Sarah and Christine at El Mercado and Chris at Donn's but there is always next time.

The holidays season is normally a very happy, bustling, busy time for me. This year was different. I had no studio therefore no art shows. I sent store bought Christmas cards. My thirty some odd year old collection of Christmas decorations were in storage and I missed every annual party that I have attended for twenty or thirty years. I didn't go to Christmas Church Service at Willie's. But hey, change is good right? Ugh.

I don't remember a December ever that I had time to set and catch up on recorded TV shows. Good news is that Christian and Carrie have an excellent huge flat screen TV and it was too cold to go out and oh wait... I am in Missouri, I have no place to go. A couple of days before we went to Texas, I was catching up on "Long Island Medium" and Christian was making fun of me because Theresa, the star of the show communicates with people who have passed over. He thinks it is morbid so it was even funnier, on the way back to Missouri last night, Andrew and I were in the back set watching one of his favorite animated movies "ParaNorman," a movie about a little boy who talks to people who have crossed over. LOL

So today... I was on the phone with a friend, talking about how normal it seems to us that there are spirits among us and it dawned on her that it seemed like she had felt the presence of someone who had passed away on Christmas several years ago. Suddenly, across the room, the book "Where the Sidewalk Ends" by Shel Silverstein fell off of the bookshelf onto the floor. I told my friend on the phone and she said that it was odd because she was just looking at the same book on her bookshelf. She opened the book to this poem.

True Story

~ Shel Silverstein

This morning I jumped on my horse,

And went out for a ride,

And some wild outlaws chased me

And they shot me in the side.

So I crawled into a wildcat’s cave

To find a place to hide,

But some pirates found me sleeping there,

And soon they had me tied

To a pole and built a fire

Under me—I almost cried

Till a mermaid came and cut me loose

And begged to be my bride,

So I said I’d come back Wednesday

But I must admit I lied.

Then I ran into a jungle swamp

But I forgot my guide

And I stepped into some quicksand,

And no matter how I tried

I couldn’t get out, until I met

A water snake named Clyde,

Who pulled me to some cannibals

Who planned to have me fried.

But an eagle came and swooped me up

And through the air we flied,

But he dropped me in a boiling lake

A thousand miles wide.

And you’ll never guess what I did then—

I DIED.

So I am dedicating this poem to you my dear May 12th buddy. May your soul rest in peace.